


"We Are Not Daily Beggars That Beg From Door to Door"

by farad



Series: Christmas Carols [12]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 29, afternoon</p>
            </blockquote>





	"We Are Not Daily Beggars That Beg From Door to Door"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashlyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashlyn/gifts).



> Set the Christmas after "Obsession". Thanks to Zeke Black and her awesome Magnificent Seven Handbook, with transcripts, pictures of the clothes the boys wore, and every thing else, and the people at Daybook for their quick answers to my specific detail needs! Unbetaed, in hopes that the awesome betas who have helped me through this series will be surprised. All mistakes my very own and I claim them.

 

_**"We are not daily beggars** _

_**That beg from door to door,** _

_**But we are neighbors' children** _

_**Whom you have seen before** _

_**Love and joy come to you,** _

_**And to you your wassail, too,** _

_**And God bless you, and send you** _

_**A Happy New Year,** _

_**And God send you a Happy New Year."** _

 

\--from "The Wassail Song, verse two;

the words and lyrics are unknown but the tradition of going wassailing

dates back to 12th century England

 

 

Ezra was sitting on the boardwalk when the two of them road into town. Together.

 

Chris had left town the 23rd, the day before Christmas Eve. Ezra had been up earlier than usual, dressing for the beginning of the 'profit season', when Chris had trotted out of town, leaving before the holiday began.

 

Vin had planned to go that day, too, but Mrs. Wells and Mrs. Potter had asked him to go hunting for turkeys for the holiday dinner on Christmas Day and he'd returned late that afternoon, successful and ready to go then. Until Buck, ever charming, had convinced him to stay – 'good thing for Inez, she's missing her family, good thing for JD, he needs us around, good thing for all of us, to be together after all the problems this past year'.

 

But the afternoon of the 24th, Ezra had made his way downstairs to be told that Vin had left earlier, not at daybreak but sometime after Mary had finished baking a collection of sweet breads, and she'd entrusted Vin with the delivery of one of those loaves to Chris.

 

Ezra watched them as they rode into town, easy together. Vin looked the rougher for his time away, the scruff of a beard and mustache dark on his face, the brim of his hat dropping from dampness, his coat splotched in places as if he'd been out in the rains.

 

Maybe he had, Ezra argued with himself. Maybe he hadn't spent the past five days at Chris' place, eating raisin bread, drinking whiskey, and generally keeping Chris company. Vin hadn't been there when Ezra himself had gone by, but that didn't mean he wasn't out hunting or rambling around somewhere. Didn't mean he hadn't come back and spent the night . . .

 

They rode into the livery together, and Ezra watched them unsaddle their horses, talking to Tiny. He's been part of this process with each of them and both of them enough to know the conversation: Chris would as the news of the town, what had happened while they were gone. Vin would ask after the damage done by the rains and ice. Chris would ask who was in town and who wasn't, especially of the seven. Vin would ask after news from the stage coach drivers, new that Tiny, unlike most others in town, would have because he spent the most time with the stage drivers and heard things that weren't necessarily part of public news.

 

The whole thing would take no more than twenty minutes or so, less if Chris and Vin both paid Tiny to curry their horses. Then they would leave, carrying their saddlebags and rifles, head to the boarding house where they would divest themselves of the unnecessaries before making their way out to the saloon or the restaurant if it was at a meal time or evening, or perhaps over to the jailhouse if Tiny had told them of an incarceration.

 

They would be together, as they so often were when they were in town.

 

Ezra pushed himself out of the chair and turned toward the saloon. It was December 29, two days before the New Year. While not as big a celebration as Christmas, New Year's was still a time of festivity and good cheer, and people willing to lose money. He had more important things to do than worry on Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee and what they might or might not have gotten up to in the fives days they'd been gone from the town.

 

He sat down at his usual table and pulled out his deck of cards. Before he had finished his first game of solitaire, there were three others at the table, ready to play poker. It was good, a distraction, especially since to of the men he was playing with were cheating, he could tell from the way they kept not looking at each other. It made the game more complex as he had to take the time to learn their tells to each other, and still beat them. Which he did.

 

It required, though, that he make it look like actual 'luck', since he was the only one of the seven in the room at the moment he hadn't yet had a chance to determine of the two men he was with were with others who might be stationed around the saloon to guard their backs.

 

The two men were beginning to sense that he was on to them when Chris walked through the door of the saloon, the familiar clinking of his spurs announcing him just before he pushed open the door. For one of the few times Ezra could remember, he was disappointed not to see Vin with Chris.

 

Chris looked around as he came in, appraising the place. As his eyes scanned over the room, he caught Ezra's gaze, moved past, then came back. Ezra held it, tilted his head slightly to the right, where the closest of the two was.

 

Chris' eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, and he nodded once, making his way more slowly to the bar. He ordered a beer and turned to lean back against the bar so that he could watch what was going on, and Ezra relaxed a little.

 

"I'll take two cards," one of the men, Argus, said, tossing down two cards from his hand.

 

Ezra complied, dealing him two then he turned to the next player, who took three, then to the third player, the other cheater.

 

Before the man spoke, Argus said, "Think you're dealing off the bottom of the deck. I've seen these cards before."

 

Ezra didn't turn his head, keeping his eyes on the partner. "Might that be because you have those cards up your sleeve?"

 

No one at the table moved. The sudden stillness drew the attention of others in the bar, and Ezra was vaguely aware that Chris had straightened, his hand falling on his gun.

 

Argus straightened and put his cards down on the table. Ezra had the momentary satisfaction of knowing that he had thrown them off, not just with the comment but also with his refusal to look at Argus. The man he was looking at, Barclay, was the shooter, the one who was supposed to be the ace in the hole, so to speak. But Ezra wasn't giving him the chance to pull his gun. Which put Argus in the position of having to figure out how to handle this.

 

And which put Argus directly in Chris' line of sight.

 

"You accusing me of cheating?" Argus asked slowly. The words weren't loud, but they brought a sudden silence to the rest of the room.

 

"No," Ezra said calmly, still looking at Barclay. "I'm accusing you both, as a team."

 

Barclay's gaze flickered for just an instant, just long enough to put to bed any doubts that Ezra might have had.

 

And to give him all the warning he had. The flicker wasn't toward Argus but instead was to his right and Ezra's left, to someone behind Ezra.

 

Ezra stretched out his right arm, his two-shooter springing into his hand as he twisted to one side. The first bullet skimmed his ribs, the second slammed into the table just where he had been a second before.

 

He fell to the floor and rolled to one side, away from the table and the men who were sitting at it. There were more sounds of gunfire mixed with the sounds of people yelling and crying out. Chris fired at least once though Ezra was pretty sure it was twice, then Ezra heard another shot that he recognized.

 

But even as he felt relief that Vin had shown up, it was overwhelmed by the flare that burned through his body as the bullet wound registered. He reached down, almost crying out as his fingers brushed over the wound. His shirt was sticky with blood which he could feel seeping down his body.

 

There were voices calling out loudly, feet moving around and over him, then the table moved and Vin dropped down on his knees beside Ezra.

 

"How bad?" he asked, his voice tight, his eyes looking over Ezra's body until he saw the blood. His hand went to it immediately, pressing against it until Ezra writhed with the pain of it. "Get Nathan!" he called out, and Ezra was vaguely aware of Inez picking up the call. "What the hell did you get yourself into," Vin muttered as he let go of Ezra's wound long enough to pull off his bandana. He pressed it back against the wound, forcing Ezra to catch his breath. The lack of it made him dizzy, a state he remained in for a while. He didn't mind, though, not really, as once Nathan arrived, the pain ebbed and flowed, sometimes overwhelming him to the point of unconsciousness. The one thing he was aware of, though, even when he was aware of little else, was Vin's presence nearby, the low rasp of his voice as he answered Nathans' questions, as he asked what to do to help, as he talked to Chris about what had happened to the men who had tried to set him up.

 

The pressure of his hands on his body, wiping away the blood, helping Nathan wrap his chest wound, holding him up and laying him down.

 

Ezra opened his eyes to a darkened room though it wasn't completely dark; a lamp burned low on the bedside and through the curtains, he could see the first streaks of daylight. He turned his head to one side, catching his breath as the movement reawakened the pain.

 

His eyes fell on the figure in the chair – not Nathan. Vin sat slouched to one side, his head at an awkward angle and his mouth partly open as he snored. His scruff was even longer, almost a beard now, and his shirt was dark with smears of blood. Ezra's.

 

He looked horrid.

 

Ezra couldn't remember ever seeing him look so wonderful.

 

Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he jerked and almost black-out again as the pain razed through him. When he could breathe, he was aware of someone leaning over him, but not from the side of the bed Vin was on.

 

He turned to find Nathan checking his bandage, his fingers warm and as gentle as they could be. "Had to dig the bullet out," Nathan murmured, tucking the blanket back around Ezra. "You lost some blood, and it's gonna hurt for a while, but long as we keep it clean and you don't take a fever, you should be all right."

 

"The others?" Ezra asked, or tried to. His mouth was dry and his jaw didn't seem to want to work right, so he wasn't sure exactly what came out.

 

But Nathan seemed to understand. "You're the worst injury. Chris and Vin got all the others and they're in jail. One of them has a broken nose from where Vin clubbed him with his gun, and one of them was shot in the hand – you know Chris and his disarming abilities."

 

Ezra swallowed or tried to. Nathan picked up a mug from the table beside the bed and helped Ezra take several sips. When Ezra had swallowed as much as he could, Nathan put it back on the table, and leaned forward. "You get some rest. Now that you're awake, I'm gonna get some sleep myself. He'll wake up soon enough – he's been checking in pretty often, worried about you. Think he blamed himself for not getting there to stop things."

 

Ezra nodded once, slowly, then he carefully turned to look once more at Vin. He hadn't moved though his snoring had gotten a little louder.

 

Nathan patted Ezra on the shoulder and got up, trying to make his way out of the room and into the small room that served as his bedroom as quietly as possible. Ezra closed his eyes, sliding back into sleep despite his best efforts.

 

He wasn't sure how long he slept but he didn't think it was long; he awoke when the bed shifted slightly and a soft breath blew across his forehead. He opened his eyes to find Vin staring down at him.

 

"Not quite what I was thinking on," he said softly, "when I thought 'bout spending the night with you tonight."

 

"Though you'd changed your mind," Ezra said, the words easier this time. "You came back with Chris."

 

Vin shook his head and leaned closer, rubbing his nose against Ezra' forehead. The bristles on his chin rubbed against Ezra's cheek, a slight burn. "Didn't spend the time with him," he sighed. "Told you I was going out to think. We met up on the road coming in – guess we had the same thought. that it was time to come home."

 

'Home'. It was a word Ezra had been thinking a lot about lately. He'd never had one, not one that he thought of that way. But this year, when he'd welcomed in his December 23rd, he'd discovered that he wasn't missing Maude as much as he usually did – in truth, he'd hardly thought of her at all. Instead, he'd been pleased to have the company of his friends here, Buck, JD, Inez, Josiah, Nathan – and Vin, who had stayed one night more than he'd planned, to spend time with them.

 

To spend time with Ezra. They'd stayed up late, drunk brandy, eaten good food, then after everyone else had drifted off to bed, Vin had made his way quietly up to Ezra's room where they'd had their own quiet, personal celebration.

 

They had sex before, but that night, it was slower, easier, and more intimate than ever before, kisses and touches and intimacy, Vin's cries of pleasure muffled in Ezra's mouth.

 

The next morning, Ezra had awakened to find Vin still in his bed, kissing the back of his neck, his hand wrapped around Ezra's hard cock as he'd slowly pressed inside. And Ezra had welcomed him.

 

They'd never done that before, nor, more novel, they'd never spent the entire morning watching the sun rise in the sky between sleeping and kissing and touching. Ezra had hoped, he had wanted, and eventually, he had even asked.

 

'Stay. It's Christmas.'

 

Vin had looked at him with such intensity that Ezra was certain he would say 'yes'.

 

But instead, he had kissed Ezra long and deep then explained that he had to go. He would be back, but for now, he had to go.

 

And he had.

 

"I told you I had to go, had to go think," he whispered. "I don't lie, Ezra, I didn't go to be with Chris or anyone else. Hell, if you want the truth, I had to go think about us. About what we're doing."

 

"About leaving?" Ezra said.

 

Vin had the good grace not to look away. "Yeah. This year, since that whole thing with Ella Gaines, since Chris got shot, well, reckon we've all thought about it. About what we're doing here, taking care of him, trying to find that bitch, when it's pretty clear he ain't interested in our help."

 

Ezra drew a slow breath, careful not to stretch his lungs too much. It gave him a few seconds to think. To try to find a way to explain what Vin already knew. There wasn't really a way to dance around it, though. "I stayed because I thought you wanted to," he said softly.

 

Vin stared at him for a time, then he nodded, once. "Reckon I do. I don't like to walk out on my friends, even when they're being – well, like Chris, now. I had to go think about that, about what I'd do if you were to leave."

 

Ezra felt the first flicker of humor he'd felt in a while now. "You're being presumptuous, aren't you? Assuming I would want you to go with me?"

 

Vin blinked and looked away, but Ezra saw the shadow that clouded his eyes. He lifted a hand, struggling to get it out from under the blankets so that he could clutch at Vin's arm. "And you would be right," he said, "because I would want you to go. I have thought about it, quite a bit, but I feared that you – that you would not leave him. As you just said that you wouldn't." The reality of that was like a rock in his belly, a deep hurt that was worse than the burning wound in his chest.

 

"He's my friend," Vin said quietly. "And he's going to get himself killed if we leave him alone. You know that – hell, you know that better than I do. Just 'cause he thinks he don't want us don't mean we have to let him drive us away."

 

Ezra sighed. "How effective can we be if he won't let us help?"

 

Vin smiled then, taking the hand that held his arm into his own hand. "He'll let us help," he said softly. "Someone who's really good with words just needs to explain it to him, to show him that it ain't gonna matter how much he wants to protect us by driving us away, she's going to come after us. The best thing we can all do is to stick together and get her."

 

Ezra looked at him. "You want me to . . ." He closed his eyes, feeling very tired. But the idea made sense – it was something that had occurred to him several times as of late.

 

Better, though, was the other part of it. 'Stick together'. That meant more time with Vin while they sorted this out. More time to figure out what they were doing. More time to plan to be together when this was over.

 

"I want you to be here with me," Vin murmured.

 

Ezra blinked his eyes open and stared once more into Vin's. He nodded then smiled as Vin leaned in to kiss him full on the lips. Afterward, he said, "Get you out of here in a while, get you back to your room. Got a few surprises – not much but that's where I was when you started your little war with the boys in the saloon."

 

Ezra smiled as much as he could. "I look forward to it. Sorry that I ruined your plans. Though I might ask . . ."

 

"Yeah?" Vin leaned closer, brushing his cheeks against Ezra's.

 

"Could you, perhaps, find time to shave before we get back to my room?"

 

Vin snorted, but he rubbed against Ezra a little more, until Ezra fell back asleep.

 


End file.
